


Don't Call A Witch A Bitch

by i_swear_by_all_flowers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Transformation, Canon Divergence After Season 8, Crack, Gen, Humor, Implied attraction between Dean and Cas, Takes place in a world where Cas is still an angel and Sam is healthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_swear_by_all_flowers/pseuds/i_swear_by_all_flowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean had headed out to The Golden State four days ago to check out a few mysterious animal deaths that looked very similar to animal sacrifices. All signs pointed to a witch. Little did they know, they were messing with something a lot bigger than just a witch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call A Witch A Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> This short work was inspired by a popular post about Dean being an owl.
> 
> The forever lovely, johnwhtson, was my beta reader.

Dean and Sam stand back-to-back in the middle of a very, very oversized living room.

Witches of varying ages, sexes, and ethnicities surround them.

And they all have one thing in common: Money.

They wear Fendi or Valentino suites or dresses. Some wear Jimmy Choo shoes, others wear Gucci.

Also they all look vaguely familiar.

And they are also all brandishing either:

  *              A knife
  *              A gun



Or:

  *              Some sort of hard object perfect for bashing heads in.



Oh, and that cute blonde has a sword.

And Dean is ninety percent sure he saw that cute blonde in the latest episode of Dr. Sexy.

 “Hey, Dean,” Sam says.

“What?”

“I think your calculations were a little… off.”

Dean doesn’t have time to do anything expect kick the bronze, ruby-encrusted knife out of the hand of a witch, who strangely resembles Mitt Romney, as he lunged for Dean. Dean quickly swings a leg out and knocks the man off his feet.

“Cas, we could use a little help here.” Dean hollers.

He hears the unmistakable sound of wings to his left. Dean feels a grip on his arm and then-

They are back in their motel room.

Dean sighs and feels relief wash over his body.

He turns and slaps Cas on the back before falling on his bed.

Sam does the same, expect he heads over to the chair to do more research.

Cas informs them that he cannot stay and must return to heaven.

Dean cracks an eye open, “Not even for a victory beer,” He asks.

“Dean, I’m not sure me saving you from your imminent death counts as a victory.”

“We’re alive aren’t we?”

Cas angles his head and his eyes wander to the ceiling.

Dean knows that heaven is calling for him to get his divine ass back up there.

“Apologies,” Cas echoes and then with the blink of an eye, is gone.

Dean sighs and lies back on his bed, “Fine, but when we take out these witches, you’re having a beer with me!” He says to room only occupied by him and his brother.

Dean hears Sam snort.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Sam mumbles.

-

Already up, researching the case, they are both awake when they hear a knock on their motel door at five-thirty.

They cast bewildered looks at each other then they are up, guns in hand, at the door.

Dean is about to open the door, but apparently whoever is on the other side is very impatient.

The door swings open with a gust of chilling wind.

And with the click of heels, a figure steps in. Its silhouette fills the room.

Sam and Dean are thrown across the room before they can see who it is. 

Dean opens his eyes against the pain to get a look at their attacker.

“…Jennifer Lawrence…?” Dean conveys.

Sam, to Dean’s right, strains his neck against crushing force to get a look.

“Hey,” Jennifer Lawrence, or the thing that looked like her anyway, called. “You think anyone could be twenty-three, have a successful acting career, and have received seventy-seven awards, including: an Academy, BAFTA, Critics’ Choice, and a Golden Globe, without a little Supernatural help?” She narrows her eyes, “I’ve seen you before, yes, what’s the name I’m looking for… Winchesters.” She says coolly, without a tick of fear in her voice, but with a smirk.

The grip loosens, and they fall, panting, to the floor.

“I want to make a deal, I’ll let you go, if you promise to never return.” She says with a sweet, charming voice.

“We ain’t demons, bitch.” Dean growls.

Sam casts Dean a warning look before saying, “Why don’t you just kill us?”

“Because,” She starts, “The Winchesters never stay dead. And, let’s face it; I don’t want two of the best hunters plotting to kill me. Besides, I have a date tomorrow…. So, how about that deal? You leave me alone, and I go on and win another Oscar? Hm? I even promise to mention you in my acceptance speech.”

“I told you once, and I’ll tell yah again, we ain’t demons, bitch.” Dean spits out with disgusts.

Her face goes cold and she raises her hand, palm facing her, and slowing curls her fingers in.

A hot, metallic liquid fills Dean’s throat. He starts to choke, coughing up mouthfuls of blood.

“Hon, let me give you some advice,” She says, “Don’t call a witch a bitch.” She explains with a sneer on her face.

She unclutches her hand, “You have until eight-o’clock tomorrow morning to leave. If you are still here by then, there will be repercussions.” And with that, she turns and leaves, her Gucci Olimpia leather open toed boots echo around the room as she walks out.

-

The Winchester’s being total Winchester’s did not heed her warning, and well, what happens is not something you’ll want to miss.

-

Sam squats in front of the bed, gloating.  An uncontrollable smile plays on his face.

Dean would have replied with ‘Shut up, Sam.’ Or ‘Bitch,’ if not for the fact he suddenly turned into a bird in the middle of his shower.

Perched on red sheets of Dean’s bed sat an owl.

Sam brushed his long brunette locks out of his face as he leaned in to get a better look.

Staring back, defiantly at Sam, with almost red eyes, a tiny owl with a short tail, large head, and an almost perpetually angry look. There were no ear tufts adorning his head, instead long facial feathers protruded from the base of his long, brown, yellowish-white-tipped, beak and the sides of his face. His plumage was a rusty brown with darker vermiculated marks. And white eyebrows lined his face.

“Um, hate to break it to you, but you are not that pretty.” Sam says with forced seriousness.

He receives a few sharp bill snaps in reply.  

“You know,” Sam, hardly containing his laughter, puts a hand on his chin in mock contemplation. “I think I saw you on Animal Planet once! Yeah, yeah, you’re endangered... Maybe you could help rebuild the population.”

Dean puffs out his plumage in reply.

With that, Sam can’t hold it together anymore. He doubles over, laughing.

“Dude,” Sam says, as he sits up and wipes away his tears. “You’re smaller than my di-“

They hear a loud, crashing noise come from the bathroom.

Sam, immediately sobered, snaps into a fighter’s stance.

Dean, not entirely sure what to do, flies up onto his brother’s shoulder. He will never admit that he liked being perched upon his moose-of-a-brother.

Sam slowly walks over to the bathroom door, and carefully puts a hand on the worn, bronze bathroom doorknob. He quietly twists the door open, and-

A shape shoots out of the room.

It takes Sam awhile to figure out what is taking place before his eyes.

Something is rolling around on the floor, trapped in a tan trench-coat.

Sam has a pretty good idea of who it is.

He walks over to the thrashingshape on the floor then quickly tears away the trench coat that is masking the configuration inside. The coat flies to the other side of the room.

Immediately the figure freezes.

Sam stands up and takes a few steps back.

“Cas.. is a cat.” He breathes before he doubles over laughing, again.

Dean swoops down and lands by Cas.

The pure black cat slowly turns his wide, blue eyes to the owl by his side.

Cas lets out a husky meow, which Sam is pretty sure translates to, “Hello, Dean.”

-

Once Sam recovers, he sets out on an internet search to figure out which species of owl his brother is currently posing as.

While Sam is typing away at his laptop, his brother and Cas sit side-by-side on the old red sheets of Dean’s cheap motel room bed, watching Dr. Sexy (which Sam had put on for Dean, because, apparently, it’s hard to work a remote with nothing but a beak and talons).

Sam takes out his phone and, like any good brother, snaps a picture. He then sets it as his background, so he can forever be reminded of the time his brother and an angel got turned into animals.

He takes one last look over at the bed. Dean sits, wide brown-red eyes staring at the television. By his side, somehow resembling the shape of a meat loaf, Cas sits. His piercingblue eyes watching the TV, with even more relish than Dean (Sam would have never believed it before then).

-

“Long-Whiskered Owlet,” Sam calls out. “That’s what Jennifer Lawrence turned you into.” He never thought those words would come out of his mouth. They actually didn’t sound that out of place, I mean, considering their lives.

Dean looks over then flies over to Sam, then sits on the laptop and gazes at the screen. Cas follows.

“Says here that ‘Long-Whiskered Owlets,’ also named ‘Xenoglaux loweryi,’ are native to a small area in the An _dean_ mountains in the Amazon, in San Martín, and in northern Peru, hmm, it also says their total length is five-and-a-half inches and weighs in at about one-and-a-half ounces. The Long-Whiskered Owlets are among the smallest owls in the world…” Sam leans back in his chair; a smirk plays on his face. “Very little is known about Xenoglaux loweryi, it had never been observed under ordinary circumstances until early two-thousand-and-seven when rangers and researchers and blah, blah, blah-“Sam cuts off and skips a few paragraphs, “It probably feeds on insects.” He ends.

“I guess you’re on a strict diet of locust from now on.”

-

After their internet affair, Sam finally gets back to the problem at hand.

That problem being his brother is an owl and his friend, the Angel of The Lord, is a cat.

He spends less than an hour on the internet when he finds Jennifer Lawrence’s address.

But, wait, then whose house were they at?   

He types up the address and-

“Dude, I think Mel Gibson is a witch, too.” Sam says, then mentally adds, _Makes sense_.

He automatically waits for a reply then realizes that he won’t get one, except maybe a hoot.

“Get this. You know how on those gossip sites, they supposedly have the addresses of all the big deals in Hollywood? Well, according to:  Star Magazine, Celebrity Gossip, and The Hollywood Gossip. That address we went to yesterday belongs to him.”

Sam tries to imagine all the celebrities that got to where they are, not because of hard work and dedication, but because of the Supernatural. He then thinks of their parallel universe selves and wonders if any of them had used witchcraft to get where they were. What were their names? Ginseng Ankles? Jaret Padaleaky? Mishael Colic?

Sam gets up, shrugs on his jacket, and then reaches for the Impala keys by his laptop. But he is stopped by the screech of an owl.

Dean then lands on Sam’s hand.

“Dean, I don’t think you are in the best state to drive.”

Sam stares at Dean for a good moment before he, Dean, curmudgeonly, flies to the door.

-

Sam was glad that it was almost eleven-thirty at night when he left. He was ninety-nine percent sure that a man who had an endangered owl swooping above his head and black cat following at his heels would at least attract the attention of a motel patron or two.

-

 As Sam drives, one question plagues him. Why did she turn Cas into a cat? It would make more sense for her to make him, Sam, into an animal.

He sighs; he’s done trying to figure out Supernatural beings.

-

They pull up to a gated community.

Unlike Mel Gibson’s house, this neighborhood is surrounded by a twenty-foot iron fence, topped with electric barbed wire.

“Perfect,” Sam mutters under his breath.

He turns the car around and heads over to Mel Gibson’s house. It’s their best chance.

-

When they pull up to the oversized house, the first thing they noticed is that, just like the previous night, there was only a singular car parked in the drive, and the only light on was shining out if a bedroom window.  

Nothing indicated to them last night that there would be an entire coven of witches in that house, and nothing indicated that now.

-

Sam knocks loudly at the door. He doesn’t know what to expect, just that they needed to talk this issue over, or kill someone. The latter would be more plausible.

In no more than three-hundred-forty-three meters per second, the door opens revealing the unimpressed face of Jennifer Lawrence.

“Seriously,” She says with an impassive tone, “I’ve been waiting for you guys for hours, I missed a hair appointment.”

“Uh,” Sam starts, “How did you know we’d be here?”

“Well, you would need to get the spell off somehow. Since I cast it, you would need to come to me to get it off.” She says as she fiddles, dispassionately, with her nails.

“But how did you know that we didn’t leave.”

She looks up at him with disbelief, “You’re the Winchesters.” She states, “You guys never listen.”

Sam sighs, “Look can you just turned them back?”

“I can do more than that. Come, come, I’ll show you around.”

Sam casts a dubious look at his brother, who’s currently riding on Cas’ shoulders.

They start walking down the long, Old Lace F-D-F-Five-E-Six painted hall.

-

“The entire house is cloaked with a protection veil. It is impenetrable to demons, and your average monsters, and was thought to be angel-proof, but apparently…” She lets her eyes wander to Castiel. Jennifer says all this as she leads them through a living room (a different one from the one they were in yesterday), which is filled with an assortment of people.

“There are special, underground tunnels leading from various places all across California, and neighboring states, to this house.” She points to a small, silver door across the room as it opens, Will Smith, followed by his family, step out. She turns away, unfazed, as if this is a daily occurrence.

“This way,” she says as she leads them down another hall. She stops and opens a door to her left. A large waiting room filled with patents is the view that awaits them. “This is where we perform physical changes on fellow witches. We do everything from simple nose jobs, to not so simple sex changes.” She turns to look at them. “Here, everyone is accepted.”

She closes the door and continues. They walk for a moment, passing many doors, before she stops and opens a door to right. “Here is where we perform small spells and rituals to improve our lives.” They peer into a small room, as they do, they see, sitting cross-legged on the floor, performing a ritual, Leonardo DiCaprio. He sprinkles incense on a piece of paper then he lights it on fire. He closes his eyes then starts to chant, “O sancta nostra gubernatione mundi, obsecro, miserere mei da _Oscar_.” Jennifer shuts the door, leaving Leo in peace.

She leads them onward; they quickly find themselves in the living room where they were situated yesterday. Jennifer turns to them and clasps her hands together over her stomach. “So, what’d you think?”

She doesn’t give Sam a chance to reply.

“Did you know it took us seven years to get this place up and running? At first, only low status actors and actresses came here, now? Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston stop by every Tuesday nights for our annul poetry reading!” Her eyes wander to the ceiling as a she goes into a dreamlike state.

“Um, I’m sure that they’re as wonderful as everyone makes them out to be, but we sort of need you to concentrate right now…”

“Huh? Oh, sorry,”

“What was the point of showing us that, anyway?” Sam asks.

“So you’ll leave us alone. We aren’t harming anyone; we are helping already talented people get a start in the world!”

Sam sighs, “Look, just turn Dean and Cas back, and well never bother you again, just tell me one thing? Why did you turn Castiel into a cat? He didn’t even do anything to you.”

“That may be, but how often do you get to turn an Angel of The Lord into a cat?” She angles her head at Cas, “If you don’t want us messing with you, maybe you should put some hairnets on those wings of yours. I swear!  It took hours for the maids to get half your feathers up!” She bends down and picks something invisible off the floor, “And they’re still everywhere! They’re like lice!”

Cas narrows his eyes at her.

Jennifer sighs and turns her eyes on Dean. “Pity,” She mutters, “Did you know he’s endangered?” She says and she snaps her fingers. “Alright, spells broken. They should be back to normal in six-to-seven hours. But, you should be warned. There are… side effects of animal transformation spells…”

“What kind of side effects?” Sam pushes.

“Oh, you know: Headaches, nausea, weird food cravings, colored urine, hallucinations, bowel control problems, and in extreme cases, pregnancy.”

-

Luckily, Cas didn’t get pregnant, and other than the occasional craving for cat food, he was unaffected.

But Dean? Well, that’s a story for another time.

-

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Latin translation done by Google Translate: "Oh, our sanctuary government of the world, I beg you, have mercy on me: give the Oscar." If anyone knows of a better translator, please do contact me.


End file.
